


Damn Assassins

by vaultbug



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Duelling, Gen, Unresolved Sexual Tension, commission, gender neutral reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-22 19:03:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19973611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaultbug/pseuds/vaultbug
Summary: The whole mess, naturally, starts with Salvador's meddling.





	Damn Assassins

**Author's Note:**

> This was commissioned by @wishuponacrane on twitter/tumblr! Here you go you nerd.

The whole mess, naturally, starts with Salvador's meddling.

It is a victory night at Sanctuary. You have just come back from another successful strike against the jackasses up at Helios; disabling half their communications tech. The win has the entirety of Sanctuary thrumming in excitement, and with excitement means, well, victory booze. 

Mad Moxxi’s is packed to the brim with Crimson Raiders and civilians alike when you enter. A few Vault Hunters are scattered amongst the horde of drunks, and you spot Gaige trying out the slots. She waves as you pass, and you shoot her a grin. It’s surprising Deathtrap isn’t out next to her. You suppose it’s just to avoid the wandering gaze of Moxxi throughout the bar, as Gaige is underage and will get kicked out of the bar if Moxxi catches her.

(which is imminent with how loud Gaige cusses the machine when it steals another load of bills from her fingers)

Of the other Vault Hunters, you spot them as you walk closer to the counter. Maya’s here, and where Maya is, Krieg is. He’s technically not supposed to be here too as he has a record habit of accidentally crushing tables while drunk, but it seems Moxxi is letting it slide for tonight. In front of him, Axton and Salvador are bickering. They are currently engaged in a...bicep contest. _Flexing contest?_ You’re not quite sure what to think as Salvador runs a hand alongside Axton’s arm. Perhaps foreplay. 

Axton grins, and grabs Salvador’s hand.

Oh, yeah, definitely.

Of the Vault Hunters you see though, there’s no Zer0. That is not uncommon. You are used to the elusiveness of the assassin, how they sometimes vanish, come back. It is normal for them to drop by a few nights, then leave for wherever brooding place they frequent. You are not quite sure if they need rest. The bunker they stalked claim to when first coming to Sanctuary has been mostly untouched, and you have never seen the bedsheets unmade or altered. It’s none of your business where Zer0 sneaks off, but you find a curiosity in you all the same. 

“Little one,” Krieg growls as you step closer and you narrow your eyes as he stares at you. It’s his nickname for you -- an annoying one, since compared to him everyone was ‘little’. You haven’t tried to change it though. God forbid if he started calling you dicknips or something. 

It attracts the attention of everyone else, at least. “Ah, hey,” Axton greets, still holding Salvador’s hand. “You’re back. Where ya been?”

You roll your eyes as Salvador snatches his hand back as if burned. “Cashing in at Zed.”

“Oh, yeah, the piss-contest between you and Zer0.” Salvador says, and then grunts as Krieg attempts to stick his finger in Salv’s drink. “How’d it go? How’d they take it?”

Piss-contest. You snort. It turned out you and Zer0 had been asked the same thing of finding a gun for him. You had beat Zer0 to it purely by luck. The assassin hadn’t seemed disgruntled when you explained it to him over the dying corpse of a psycho, but Salvador seemed to think that you had completely pissed Zer0 off. You doubted it. 

Still, you had to clear the air before Salvador started a betting table on how Zer0 would skin you. “Just stared,” you say back to him. There is a unanimous nod amongst the Hunters, one that means ‘Oh, yeah, definitely sounds like Zer0.’

Salvador, however, does not quit his nagging at that. “Oh, right,” he snorts and points across the bar. You follow his finger to spot Zer0 in the corner, looking directly at you. You had not seen them come in. Had they followed you in? “That’s definitely why they’re standing there looking ominously at you.”

 _Well._ Salvador had a point there. Still, you persist. “Probably looking to join us,” you say off-handedly and it seems that way.

At first, at least.

The bar falls a little quieter as they approach. It’s a common thing with Zer0. Pandorians were murder-scum and bandits, but they were also very good at absorbing gossip; with Zer0’s approach they were probably braced to hear an entire shitload of drama go off. Salvador had already been spreading rumours, you grimace. Across the room you can see Moxxi pause at her latest fling and eye the bar table you stand at.

“Eyo, Zer0,” Salvador says as the assassin finally stops right in front of you. “You here to skin the twerp?” He gestures at you and you elbow him hard. 

Zer0 ignores him. “I would like to talk,” they say and it is aimed directly at you. There is sudden drop of background noise in the bar. Faintly you are aware that about eight pairs of eyes are glued on the two of you from the other side of the bar. 

Alright. You were doing this now. You try not to betray the nervousness too bad though. God forbid it ends with Zer0 growing impatient. 

You stutter. “Alright. Let’s talk?” 

(god, you’re terrible.) 

Zer0 stares. It is a long silence before they speak. Through it you imagine the scenarios going through their head. Perhaps Salvador was right. Perhaps they were pissed off. Perhaps you had misstepped somewhere. Oh, god. You finger your holster, ready to sacrifice the pistol you earned earlier in case Zer0 was peeved. Please don’t be pissed, you think right before they talk.

They say; “You are impressive.”

_What._

The confusion in your face must show because Salvador loudly snorts and elbows you. You glare at him, then look back at the assassin. They have not changed their posture in the slightest but you can sort of tell they’re amused. 

Zer0 continues, and admiration flows faintly in their tone. “Very impressive / the skill you have with quick-draw / rivals almost me.” 

_What._ You ponder. Had your skill been good? You try to think back. When had Zer0 seen you in action? Had it been the quest earlier? The assassination hadn’t felt impressive. More...anxiety-filled. You had been sneaking through the camp to kill the Psycho leader, and when the alarm went off you had gone ballistic on the stockade of grenades you had been saving up for emergencies. It hadn’t seemed glorified compared to the rest of the shenanigans the Vault Hunters got up to. 

Still, you had to answer the assassin. “Thank you,” you say back to the blank visor, because it is polite and also because you’ve heard about the assassin’s infamous lack of patience in conversations. 

Something blinks on the assassin’s helmet, and you are now staring back to a smiling emoji. Huh. Well. That went better than expected. Still, you can feel your hands trembling and half of you wants to strangle Salvador. The other half itches for a drink. You make to excuse yourself.

Zer0 does not let you. “I would like to propose a challenge,” they say and the whole bar screeches to a halt.

_What._

You turn back to them, mouth the words before saying them. It still doesn’t feel right. “A challenge?” You ask.

Zero hums, and folds their hands together. It radiates a smugness. “You against my blade /superiority for / a test of my skill,” they say and you get the inkling you’re being tested for worth. Bastard.

But...they wanted a challenge now? This time you blink and look outside. It is just getting dark. From what you can tell half the population of Sanctuary is in Moxxi’s, and the rest is in stretchers being worked on by Zed. “Right now?” You ask.

“Unless you cower,” Zer0 says and _oh,_ there is definitely a challenge in those tones. 

And that’s the problem with you, right there. You’re weak to taunts -- you like challenges, even despite them coming from terrifying sources. There is something about the thrill, an encouraging little fire flaming your insides. Addicting, the thrill is. You have to bite back.

You narrow your eyes. “You’re on,” you snap back and Zer0 chuckles before disappearing outside.

* * *

It is a mistake to take them on, you soon realize.

The assassin is quick. Too quick -- holograms reappear and disappear and no matter how many shots you put through their visor it only results in it dissipating into blue cubes. Some of those shots have hit though. There is a difference between hologram Zer0 and normal, and that is hologram Zer0 seems stiffer. More inhumane than their counterpart, though you admit that is a stretch. Still, you'll take what you can get. 

But the few wins you're pulling over the assassin still doesn't chalk up to enough. Zer0 has been abusing your shield, depleting it and you’ve only have a few precious numbers left on its screen. _42, 41,_ they read counting down, and an annoying beep tells you that you’re soon to be feeling cuts rather than the crack of steel against your back. _Shit,_ you think as you whip out the pistol again and circle the street, waiting for an indication or flicker of their deception. _Shit, shit, shit._

Something hits your side. The shield drops.

_Shit._

You duck and roll and come up firing. Another hologram shatters in front of you -- quickly you snap back to avoid a clean cut and smash the butt of your rifle into the assassin’s chest. They stumble back ( _amused,_ you think) and vanish back into thin air. You take out the SMG anyways and give the surrounding area a nice spray. 

“You’re doing great!” Salvador shouts from the Crimson Raider HQ’s balcony. (because of course the other vault hunters are watching, why wouldn’t they) Despite the peril of your surroundings, you snort.

The street is silent after that. A break from the endless holograms and you think they must be toying with you, enjoying watching you squirm. It's working -- already you can feel your palms sweating and you look around the empty streets. Bandits laugh in the distance. Down outside of Sanctuary borders you hear the distant cries of skags and psychos. 

You switch back to pistol. 

Quiet drags on. You count beneath your breath, spin in circles around the street. The roofs are the dangerous areas. Behind you is dangerous. It's better to keep moving. 

(and you walk, right back up against the wall, blind to the shadow on the roof)

"Got you," they whisper and by the time you turn around it’s too late.

It happens too fast but you know this; the both of you go down in a heap. The pistol shot misses -- they must have anticipated that, expected it, because one of their hands wraps around yours and you feel them bat the gun aside and the shot goes wild. Your hands end up under one of theirs and hits the ground above your head, and you feel them settle on your stomach, nimble. You try to kick them off but they anticipate that too and as they pin you down, something burns at your neck. 

Burns. Your neck. The realization settles just as you lean your chin back and feel the sword’s blade bite at your neck. Ah, you think, lick your lips and stop moving. 

(lest you want to be decapitated) 

They like that. Zer0 flashes that damned emoji ( _a smile_ , echoes your mind) and chuckles. It is low and static hisses around the edges. “I win,” they rumble and you can feel the voice through their entire body.

And, lord, there is weight on your torso and you cannot buck it off without the blade cutting straight into your neck. You consider snarking but your breath has gone somewhere to Heaven and your mind straight to Hell. _Well, you lost_ , the competitive side tries to say but the frustration has been replaced completely by blush searing your face, the adrenaline of the blue blade flitting so close against your pulse in your neck. You can feel how sharp it is, yet it does not touch the skin. Zer0 is skirting the edge between killing you. You hold your breath.

And in that instant you look up and watch the vault hunter. They have cocked their head, and the smug emoji that once lined their faceplate has faded to a cold blackness. In that blank visor you can see exactly how your eyes look under their blade -- terrified, frustrated. You can also see the red of your ears and the recognition has you nearly jolting up against the blade. Thankfully, common sense overrides the embarrassment.

This, of course, does not escape Zer0. “Interesting,” they say and you never want to hear the playful lilt in their voice ever again. Scratch that. You would love to hear it again, but preferably when you weren’t pinned under their combined weight and blade, unable to move your hands from over your head. 

You bite back a curse, try to silence your flaring cheeks. “Get off,” you snarl.

“Yield first,” Zer0 insists, and god if your hands were not currently trapped by the blade they’d be strangling the assassin. You bite your cheek and when the next words come out it’s with a layer of sarcastic undertone. 

“I’m sure you can tell,” you snarl.

There is that cock of the head again, and Zer0’s blade presses closer another millimetre. There is a danger in their voice when they speak again. “I want to hear you / confess, plead for my pleasure,” they say. “Delicious, the noise.”

And it really should be illegal to say that type of stuff when you can feel their body on yours. “Fine, fine,” you breathe, because _wow, ok, not fair_ and two, you were pretty sure your entire face had lit up enough to beacon a lunar bombing from Helios. “I yield. I yield, you won, you’re the best, get off.”

(get off get off get off before you spotaneously combust)

There is a pause. Hesitation, perhaps. Or maybe they wanted to see you squirm more. Either way, the blade slides away and you let out a shaky breath as they get off slowly. A traitorous part of you misses the contact. _No,_ you think to it furiously and lock that new discovery away for later brooding.

When you look back up, and bring yourself to a sit, they have knelt down to your pistol, knocked across the cobblestones. You expect them to take it. It’s what always happens with duels. Winner gets a keepsake, a memento for the occasion. Yet as you watch Zer0 does nothing more than pick it up and turn back to you. There is a smile on their visor again. “A grand match,” they say and offer you your pistol back. 

You hesistate. The words ‘It’s yours’ rise in your throat but Zer0 must be a telepath or something because they hum and push the pistol back into your hands. The weight settles in your hands, heavier than it had been before. 

(and you can feel their hands -- three digits, cool and soft -- )

“I look forward to our next duel,” Zer0 says and pulls away with a hum.

By the time you blink they are gone, and you sit absolutely confused. Salvador drops from the balcony with a huff and hits the ground a little away from you. He’s fingering bills, most likely made from a hasty bet with Axton. Good to know Salvador betted against you. 

“You’re a jackass,” you tell him when the confusion somewhat ceases.

He snorts. “Hm,” he says and it’s the type of ‘hm’ that is always accompanied by a smirk. You look up and sure enough, he is grinning with impish intent. “Mysterious ones, eh?”

You punch him and when he laughs you feel your ears burn all the harder.


End file.
